What Is This?
by justasimplesketch
Summary: Written for Inception Kink Meme. Philippa has plenty to say about how Arthur and Eames should be together. Rated T just for the minute swearing.


**What Is This?**

_Prompt: Arthur is stuck somewhere with Philippa who keeps questioning him about the nature of his relationship with Eames. Up to you if she's subtle or blunt, how old is she and whether they __do_ have a relationship. (And what sort of relationship is that. I think I might prefer it to be unestablished, but ER totally works too!)

James needs to go to the doctor and Philippa refuses to go. She demands that Uncle Arthur comes over. Cobb calls and Arthur obliges, having nothing better to do on a Wednesday afternoon in the middle of June.

Philippa hugs Arthur as soon as he enters the door. Cobb and James walk out, leaving the two alone. Arthur sits down on the couch and his twelve-year-old _niece_ snuggles up to him.

"So, Uncle Arthur, when are you and Uncle Eames going to give me a cousin?" Arthur nearly chokes on the water he's drinking. "I know you two are in love. Uncle Eames smiles too much when you are around and you remove the stick that's up your arse."

"That is not proper language for a young lady, Philippa." He chides her, but knows where she picked up such lingo. "As for _Uncle Eames_, we are just colleagues. We work together."

She gives him a look that says, 'Yeah, right' before trotting off to do some painting. A half-hour later, she presents him with the painting. "See, you and Uncle Eames are so cute together." Arthur turns bright red before placing the painting on the side table. He opens his mouth to say something, but finds he's speechless. "You can convince Ariadne to have your baby for you. Or adopt, like my friend's parents."

"Philippa, stop!" He says a tad too harshly and the girl grows upset.

Her eyes fill with tears as she grabs the painting and rips it in half and then into many tiny pieces. "_Fine!_ I don't care if you're happy, _Arthur_. Uncle Eames deserves someone who is nicer than you, anyway!" She throws the shredded paper at his face and stomps off. Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose, irritated and confused. He starts picking up the pieces of paper and tosses them in the trash after collecting them all. Cobb comes home an hour later and Arthur excuses himself without saying more than a handful of words.

He drives back to his apartment, stewing in what Philippa had said to him. _She's simply a child_, he tells himself. But something is gnawing inside of him. The girl was so adamant. Did they really act that different around each other? Sure, over time, Arthur has gotten used to the forger and his seductive nature. After sharing the Inception, he found Eames more tolerable, definitely. Sharing such an experience changes relationships. Including Arthur and Eames's. Arthur invited Eames out for drinks quite often. Even helped him forge papers in order for him to remain in the States. Not that Eames needed the help, but Arthur insisted. Maybe Philippa misconstrued his friendliness for love.

His cell phone ringing brings him out of his reverie. "Hello?"

"Arthur, where are you? I'm standing outside your apartment building. We have plans today, or did you forget?" Eames. The source of his problems, currently.

"No, I didn't forget. I had to watch Philippa, while Dom took James to the doctor. Things ran over a bit longer than I had anticipated. I'll be there shortly." Arriving ten minutes later, Arthur parks his car. As he walks up, he takes Eames in. Shaking his head slightly, he clears the thoughts and notions of possibly having romantic feelings for Eames. It is simply preposterous in every way. But that gnawing returns when Eames turns around and smiles at him.

"You look positively frazzled."

"I am." Arthur mutters.

"Nothing a little alcohol can't cure, darling." Arthur shivers slightly when Eames calls him 'darling'. He closes his eyes for a moment before regaining his footing on reality. "Seriously, Arthur, you're acting off. If you're feeling ill, we can always reschedule. It's only drinking. Alcohol will always be there."

"No. It's fine. I just have a lot of on my mind. Shall we?" They walk to the bar they frequent; it is not dreadfully far from Arthur's apartment. This happens about once a week, the day and time generally varies. Eames tells Arthur about various job offers and things he has been doing in his free time. Arthur talks about whatever he has accomplished in the week. It is just two friends having some drinks, some laughs, and _occasionally_, being a little too physical.

_But that only happened once. And we were both three sheets to the wind. _Arthur reminded himself cautiously. When Arthur immediately goes for the straight alcohol, Eames lifts his brow in surprise. "Are you not going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Not important." He gulps down the drink, feeling the rush of fire run down his esophagus.

Eames doesn't pry further, for which, Arthur is grateful. He hardly needs to explain that Cobb's twelve-year-old believes they should be together. Nor does he need to explain that Philippa's words and behavior has him believing it a bit too much himself.

_Eames is an attractive man_. He admits that. Arthur has never been one to turn down sex or a relationship due to gender. _But it's Eames. The gambling, foolish thief I am fond of because we have done so many jobs together. His charm has rubbed off. _

"There's a job in Tibet, requiring a pointman and forger. You interested?" Eames often informs Arthur of jobs just requiring a pointman. This offer catches him off guard momentarily.

"If you give me more information, perhaps. Sitting around, babysitting the Cobb children has grown slightly mind numbing."

"I'll bring by the information this weekend, once I get all of the paperwork. Sounds promising though, as does the pay." Arthur nods along before ordering another drink. "Have you ever been to Tibet?"

Arthur takes a gulp of his drink, "No. I think, at one point, Cobb and I were looking into a job there, but it fell through."

"Are you in love with him?" Eames bluntly asks, making Arthur sputter out his drink. _People have got to stop surprising me when I am drinking._

"_Are you insane? Cobb?_ Yes, I worked with him for years. I admire him, but no."

The Englishman looks flustered, which Arthur wants to write off as slight intoxication, but Eames holds his liquor well. And, unlike Arthur, is still nursing his first beer. "Well, you baby-sit his children and most of our conversations involve him, so, I was curious."

"Does it make you jealous, Mr. Eames?" Arthur laughs before finishing his drink. When Eames doesn't answer, Arthur's eyes widen slightly. "It does."

Eames becomes all business, uncharacteristic for the flirtatious Brit. "For a pointman, you definitely miss a lot of clues. You're supposed to be able to have all the information intact. But when it comes to what _this_ is, you're clueless."

Arthur takes a deep breath, "So what is _this_?" He rubs at his temple, "Because love complicates things. Look at Mal and Dom…"

Eames growls, "I know, you have a hero worshipping complex when it comes to Cobb. But, I'm sorry; we aren't stupid like they were. You and I both understand the limits of dreaming. The Cobbs are a complicated case. Live beyond the little box you've created for yourself where Dominic Cobb is your fucking idol." He finishes his beer before throwing down enough money to cover their drinks and leaving the bar. Arthur stares dumbfounded at the door, which just slammed closed.

Sighing deeply, Arthur heads out and walks back to his apartment building. His mind blurs with a million different thoughts. It is not until he sits down on his couch, does his mind focus. Picking up his cell phone, he dials Eames's number, only to get his voicemail. Arthur hates leaving voicemails, so he ends the call.

Thursday and Friday go by without being able to reach Eames. It infuriates the pointman endlessly. Finally, he leaves a voicemail on Saturday morning.

"Eames, I have no idea where you are. Ignoring me for days at time is just childish and I wish you would call me. Things on Wednesday didn't go well, we both know this. Just call me." Arthur sighs through the last line before hanging up.

Still nothing. No return phone call, no text messages, nothing.

It isn't until Tuesday afternoon that a text message comes in.

_Bar. 5 pm._

Arthur arrives just before five and Eames is already seated at the bar. He slides onto the stool beside him and orders a beer. "I thought you were never going to speak with me again." Arthur says as he takes a sip of his beer. "It made me angry, furious, maybe beyond that. You say that _this_ is something more than just friends. But you left me hanging for nearly a week. Do people in love really do this to each other?"

"You've never heard of a lovers' quarrel?"

"But for a week?"

Eames sighs and turns to face him, "Yes. And you keep saying _love_. Is that what you think _this_ is?"

Arthur rubs the back of his neck, contemplating the thought, "I don't think it is. It wasn't until Wednesday that I knew you had feelings for me. Or that I may have feelings for you." He paused briefly. "It's complicated. I've spent a healthy portion of my adulthood working with you on various projects. I never really examined my feelings for you, beyond platonic ones. I'm not in love with you, but there are feelings. We can't just rush into this and expect love to blossom. It'll take work. If you're willing to give it a shot, so am I."

Eames looks at Arthur, taking a long gulp of his beer before nodding, "I am willing."

Arthur smiles and nods before enjoying the rest of his beer and his present company.


End file.
